<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[The Dish]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[http://dish.andrewsullivan.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[Andrew Sullivan]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://dish.andrewsullivan.com/author/sullydish/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[Poem For Saturday]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[
<p><img alt="Eddy10" class="asset  asset-image at-xid-6a00d83451c45669e20133f51e3e85970b" src="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/6a00d83451c45669e20133f51e3e85970b-550wi.jpg" style="width: 515px;" title="Eddy10" /></p>
<p>&quot;For My Dog, Who Listens to All My Poems&quot; by <span>Cathy Smith Bowers <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/past/docs/unbound/poetry/antholog/bowers/formydog.htm" target="_self">appeared</a> in <em>The Atlantic</em> in July/ August of 2002:</span></p>
<blockquote>
<p><span>How entranced, each time, she sits there,<br /> her eyes, I swear,<br /> filling with tears<br /> at her master&#39;s</p>
<p> inimitable brilliance. It&#39;s<br /> clear to me what&#39;s<br /> bounding through her<br /> head: <em>The greatest</em>,</p>
<p> <em>yet, of all the generations!</em><br /> My husband says<br /> she&#39;s just waiting<br /> for her rations.<br /></span></p>
</blockquote>
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